Headstrong
by Blurby
Summary: After "A Whole New Ballgame", Harm and Mac adjust to the prospect of a new CO, together.
1. Pizza

 **HEADSTRONG**

Yet another episode reaction to "A Whole New Ballgame". I don't think I'll ever get used to not seeing ol' AJ behind that huge, mahogany desk. Please excuse in any errors, I posted this in quite a hurry, I'll go over it again soon.

* * *

As Colonel Sarah Mackenzie glanced at Harm as their D.C. cab cruised down the beltway towards Georgetown, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, something that she hadn't felt for an incredibly long time. She shook it off and focused her attention to the passing scenery; the Monument towered high above the rest of the area, the beautiful illumination at the base of the spire made it stand out from the dull, bleak background of the underlying parks and government buildings.

"Mac," Harm said casually, startling her out of her stupor. "You hungry?"

"Always," she groaned, bringing her hand to her middle and patting it theatrically. "Need you ask?"

He folded his arms behind his head and gazed outside towards the setting sun. "I was thinking we could get a pizza. Half-half…I mean, if you want. I'm starving, and I can't be bothered to make anything. Or, two-thirds for you, one-third for me."

He would often ask her to join him for the odd night at home for dinner, or to join him and Mattie for a movie. She had yet to accept any of his invitations, always evading the subject or waving him off with a sarcastic remark, but he hadn't deterred.

"I'd love to," she said at once, then turned away to gaze out the window.

It caught him off guard. He was expecting yet another rejection, at the most a rain check, but nothing close to this.

Realizing he hadn't replied, he cleared his throat and tried to be nonchalant. "Great."

The rest of the journey was silent, except for the occasional friendly banter the driver made about the increasingly bad traffic, or the construction they were planning to do south of Union. As they pulled up to Harm's building, Harm quickly thanked and paid the fare before swinging his gangly legs outside the door.

As much as she hated to admit, and wanted so badly to deny, it was awkward. Everything, it seemed, was filled with tension whenever they were together. She wanted so badly for it to go away, but the feeling remained, looming overhead and mocking her.

Inside the apartment, he flicked on the light switch and strolled to the phone.

"Message," he explained, before pressing the blinking button.

"Hello, Sir," came Bud's voice over the speaker. "I just wanted to tell you that they've picked our new JAG!"

"Oh," Mac blurted out, not expecting the SecNav and other high officials to make a decision so soon, especially after Colonel Cresswell's 'explosion' in front of the committee. She stumbled up beside Harm, nearly tripping over her own legs in anticipation, ignoring Bud's babbling as he went over the tedious process of the decision-making involved.

She held herself up by propping her arm against the wall. Harm smiled, crossing his arms, "Told you that you didn't need to worry-"

"…_General_ Gordon Cresswell, sir!" Bud laughed, interrupting Harm's trail of thought. "I wonder what it'll be like to have a Marine JAG. I know I already have Colonel Mackenzie as a CO, but this'll be way different than the Admiral."

"Mac…" Harm began, wanting desperately to terminate the line before Bud's innocent joviality could destroy his partner even more than it already had.

"Goodbye, sir." There was an affirming click as Bud's words hung in the air ominously.

Mac held her breath, hoping that perhaps Bud's voice would come back and jokingly say, _"Just kidding, Ma'am. They actually picked that pleasant Admiral Stacey, the submariner. He was stationed on the west coast before coming to D.C…" _But nothing came.

She ran her fingers through her hair and laughed sardonically. "I might as well kiss JAG goodbye."

"Don't say that," Harm started. "I'm sure he won't hold a grudge…"

Mac spun around. "That's easy to say when _you_ didn't see him nail John's ass to the wall," she snapped.

Harm took a step back in surprise. He swallowed hard and swung his arms at his sides for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Sorry," she corrected herself. "I should head home, and you say hello to Mattie and…"

Harm grabbed her by the wrist. "Stay."

She sighed, "Harm, I'm in a foul mood. I don't want to say something that'd ruin everything."

"_Everything_, what?"

"With us," she admitted, meeting his piercing gaze. "I guess we're kind of getting back on pathway to wherever the hell it is we're headed."

He loosened the grip and his hold slid down to her palm, and then to the tips of her fingers. He squeezed reassuringly, his touch warming up her hand. "I'd like it if you stayed. Mattie's at a sleep over…and I'm a crotchety old man who needs some company."

She arched an eyebrow and let him lead her towards the kitchen. He motioned towards the bar stool and smiled, grabbing the phone off the receiver and dialing for the nearby pizza parlour. Mac propped her chin up on her elbow as Harm ordered the food. Her new boss was going to make working life a living hell. The problem was that working life seemed to be the only life she had.

"Yeah, half veggie, hold the onions. Half meat-lovers," Harm said, prodding her on the shoulder and shooting her a quizzical look. "Hold on."

"What?"

He held the phone under his right hand. "You okay with the toppings?"

She waved him off. "As long as it's edible, I'm fine."

Harm turned his attention back to the telephone. "Thanks," he said, hanging up. He slid into the stool beside her and scratched his head. "Stop worrying."

"I can't," she murmured, burying her face into her hands. "I have no idea what he'll do. Send me on TAD across the Atlantic, out to Okinawa again or…"

Not knowing what else to say, Harm muttered, "You went on TAD after the Brumby…fiasco." He couldn't find any other word to describe it.

"I wanted to go then," she said, surprisingly unperturbed by the comment. "I like it here, now."

Harm's next statement just shoved her further into the crux she was in. He knew it, but didn't care. "On the ship, you said you didn't want…"

"I did," she said, being as straightforward as possible. "I mean…I know what you're talking about." At that precise moment, she decided that she wasn't going to run away, even though she was terrified of the possible encounters with Harm. She knew it was awful to hope for it, but she wanted _him_ to run away first, just so she wouldn't have to deal with it.

He opened his mouth to reply when a knock on the door pulled him away from the conversation. He shed his jacket off and threw it to the couch. The pizza boy stood on the other side of the door, handing him the flimsy box. Mac got up and made her way to the door before Harm could get his wallet out.

"I got it," she said, fishing out a twenty from her pocket and handing it to the kid. "You paid for the cab."

After saying goodbye to the boy, he made his way back to the counter and slid the pizza on it. "But I'll be reimbursed. I doubt JAG'll be willing to pay for this."

She ignored him and flipped open the top of the box. They steamy aroma filled the room instantly. She grabbed the slice closest to her and brought it to her mouth before he could put a word in. After wolfing down the piece, she turned around to see an amused Harm with his hands on his hips, standing expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" she groaned, hoping he hadn't gotten into one of his badgering moods.

He grabbed two plates from the cupboard and slid one in front of her. "Where were we before that display of…I can't even _find_ a word for that."

"I don't know," she said innocently, making a grab for another slice, when Harm pulled the pizza box out of her grasp. "Harm…I'm a guest."

"I know," he grinned. "But you get what you give."

She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned her head up against it, peering at him over the folds of her uncomfortable uniform. "Aren't you going to change?"

Harm glanced down at himself and shrugged. "I'm fine. And don't change the subject, Colonel."

"Fine, what do you want?"

"I want to know what you meant when you said that."

He didn't reiterate her words. All of a sudden, Harm's fear was evident to her. He diverted his gaze out the window and gripped the countertop haphazardly, his knuckles turning white at the sheer power of the grip.

Mac hadn't budged from her position, but watched him curiously. All of the signs showed his anxiety, and it didn't ease her anymore. "Why? I thought-"

"I can't keep doing this." His voice was barely a whisper. "I need to know that I'm waiting for something."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she slowly pushed herself up. "Waiting?"

"For this. For us. I mean, the only reason that I keep doing this…dance, as you so eloquently put it," his smile was melancholy, and he finally rested his eyes on her face, "is because I keep on believing. Maybe it's naïve, but I won't stop until you say something."

Mac's tongue felt as if it was a three-foot wide sponge. She swallowed hard to get rid of the dry sensation in her throat. "What do you want me to do?"

"I've tried to show you how I feel," he hung his head in defeat. "I keep hoping, and hoping…and I just don't know if what I want will _ever_ be there."

"I told you on the beach."

"You didn't say _anything_!" his voice rose slightly, but he put it back under control. "And I think this'll be the death of me."

Mac slid off the chair and took a step back towards the door. "Thanks, Harm. You really know how to-"

"Please, Mac, just wait," he sighed. She turned around slowly to see him staring at her. "I need you to say one thing."

Harm held his hands out in surrender and rounded the counter. He came to face her and stood toe-to-toe with her, not letting her out of his sight.

"Tell me that there's _nothing_ worth waiting for," he breathed. "And I'll be out of your hair for good. It's all I need to know."

"Harm-"

He cut her off, feeling one of her lengthy but circumventing speeches coming on. "Just tell me again. What you said in Paraguay…say it again now."

Mac curled her toes and stood up to his imposing figure. "You have no right to do this."

He caught her hand in his own, and tangled their fingers gently. "I feel something, Mac. It's the only reason I hung on after Paraguay…but if you don't feel the same I need you to tell me."

"Don't." She pried herself from his grasp and chewed her bottom lip, biting painfully into the flesh.

Harm side-stepped to stand between her and the door, his voice flat. "It's not fair to me if you just lead me along. Just stop this now."

"You know I can't," she snapped, bringing her hands to her head in sheer frustration.

"Do you want there to never be anything?" Harm whispered, not ceasing his onslaught.

She wiped her eyes as her vision started to blur from the incoming, but not yet shed tears. "I should leave."

"It seems the only way I can get through to you is to do it like that."

Mac ignored him as she blew past him in a flurry of anger. She reached for the doorknob when she heard him sigh in resignation and march towards his bedroom, loosening the tie from around his neck as he went. She watched for a moment, but exited once he went out of view behind his disjointed glass wall.

* * *

TBC


	2. Aftermath

Harm didn't rise his head as a knock on the door disrupted his trail of thought. Closing arguments were only two days away for a petty officer accused of sexual harassment, and if he wanted to nail the guy, he needed to get his point across now. Sturgis, the defense counsel, wasn't making things any easier.

"Enter."

"The…uh, General," Mac began, catching herself from saying _Admiral_, "wanted me to give you this."

Harm pushed himself up and met her at the door. After their confrontation, their behavior had been surprisingly civil, but exceeded nothing more than curt greetings and to-the-point JAG related conversation.

She handed him a file and crossed her arms, taking a step back instinctively. "Minor case for you to work on while I'm gone."

"Gone?" He froze in his place. He was convinced Cresswell wouldn't do anything so drastic like send Mac away. But if she left, Harm didn't know what he would do.

She sighed and wrung her hands together. "Assigned to the Seahawk for an investigation."

"Investigation, not that bad," he sighed, relieved at the prospect. "All alone?"

"All alone," she nodded. "The General stuck me with a few crewmen allegedly stealing supplies from the mess. He must think I'm a piece of work, breaking protocol like that back at Okinawa."

Harm frowned. "At least your six isn't on a plane to Japan. I'm sure he's just getting his footing in the new position. Your whole…_thing_ was fifteen years ago, and he probably didn't even know your name."

She shrugged. "I guess so."

"You know…" Harm brought his hand behind his neck and rubbed it nervously. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need this right now," Mac started to retreat from the office.

"It's like I tried to bully an admission out of you or something."

She stopped just as she took a step out of the door. She crossed her arms and prepared herself for the inevitable conversation. "You did," she frowned.

"Kind of like interrogation of a _really_ difficult suspect," he smiled weakly, attempting to lighten the mood.

She sighed with exasperation. "That grin didn't work on me when we first met, and it sure as hell isn't going to work now."

His face fell immediately. "I know I was out of line…"

"But…" she breathed.

"Why the hell won't you just say it?"

"You're not being fair."

"I'd still appreciate an answer to my question."

Mac swallowed hard and ran her fingers across the edge of his desk distractedly. "You are asking a lot, you know. And whenever I've asked the same of you…"

Harm nodded and busied himself by pulling down at his jacket. "I didn't realize we were running an _'eye for an eye' _system here."

"We're not," she sighed. "But you can't expect from me what you could never do yourself."

"It's hypocritical," he admitted, "but I thought we were past all that. Mac, I swear, if I had gotten my head out of my six back in Australia-"

"We don't need any 'if's. There are too many of them to count, and it'll just confuse matters even more."

She was right. He felt like kicking himself in the back of the head for not figuring out anything sooner. She plucked at the material of her shirt and shifted her eyes to the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

"So," Harm said uncertainly, "what's next?"

"I don't know," she said simply, refusing to further jeopardize the already haphazard ledge upon which their friendship stood. "But I need to be on a helo in three hours and fourteen minutes. I'd better get home to pack."

Harm fell silent and retreated back to his desk. He sat down and studied her as she stood uncertainly.

"I'm just going to ready the NCIS reports for your new case. I'll leave them on my desk." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "Goodbye."

He nodded to her curtly and turned angled his head back to his papers. He could hear the faint clicking of her heels as she left.

"Bye," he whispered to no one in particular in his empty office.

* * *

TBC


	3. The DDO

**A/N** – I wanted not only to focus on Harm and Mac in this story, but put a little Cresswell on the side. I thought it would be interesting to see _his_ interaction with the characters, because Chegwidden's absence is just huge (I'm already missing him and his "_The hell you will, Commander!" _). I wanted to portray the General as something a _little_ less demonic than what _"This Just In From Baghdad" _set up.

And I hope I'm not making Mac seem like a total harpy. It's just I believed this is how she would react, without a cliched 'confession of love' type thing.

It's just I believe Mac was previously portrayed as the one who was worried and cared about Harm excessively (prior to season 9) and made it quite clear how she felt through her actions. He, on the other hand, seemed to be completely oblivious to anything that did not have to do with his obsessions (Harm Sr., etc.) Until now, Mac seemed to be the only one attempting to pursue a relationship between them, and no one saw Harm in any negative light when he missed all his opportunities to develop their friendship further.

I am still one of those cemented Mac-supporters, and believe her actions (except for the whole _let's run off with Clay_ thing) were quite justified. Regardless of what happens, I won't like Mac any less. Although, I must agree that she does seem to be _extremely_ unsympathetic now. We need a moderation.

It's a bit hard to explain my rational for this whole thing, so if it seems that I'm full of it, you're probably right. :)

Sorry for the babbling. Anyway, on to the story (and thank you very much for the reviews), I'll try to avoid such lengthy A/N's in the future.

* * *

"Hold it please," Mac called as she blinked back the increasingly familiar lethargy. Her voice seemed to echo for a moment down the ever-immaculate hallways of the JAG office, a place where she had called home for a long time. She simply couldn't imagine working anywhere else for the rest of her military career. 

A hand popped out of the elevator car and kept the doors from sliding shut as she edged in.

"Thank you," she sighed. After a moment, she realized who was standing next to her. "Sir?"

"Colonel," came her CO's rigid, but surprisingly unthreatening voice.

Major General Gordon Cresswell had done nothing but scare the living hell out of her every _day_ at JAG. She didn't know if he was ready to whip out a pen and sign the transfer papers to send her to Antarctica. So far, she had managed to avoid all but necessary contact with the new JAG, but couldn't help but feel apprehensive when in his presence.

Even if Cresswell and Chegwidden were miles apart in how they ran the office, they were much the same in their sometimes curt demeanor. But the Admiral has an indescribable warmth about him, regardless of what he did or did not say. Perhaps she just needed do some adjusting with the General.

"How was your investigation?" he asked. The conversation was strained, but she decided it was much more bearable than spending thirty-seconds of _silence_ alone with the man.

Mac eyed the elevator's status as it slowly and painfully approached their floor. "Well, Sir, I believe it went rather well. Both Seaman Jones and Petty Officer Sinclair admitted to their thefts. They've agreed to skipping all proceedings and accept forfeiture of two months pay, each."

He nodded and thankfully stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened. Mac forced a smile and started to her office.

She nearly collided with Bud, who managed to dodge her as he carried a stack of books. However, as the recently promoted Lieutenant Commander bustled past her, he ran directly into Sturgis, sending a slew of tomes to the floor. Mac turned around to help her friends, and laughed gently as she saw they had already recovered most of the fallen items while they apologized to each other profusely.

"Back so soon?" came a voice that made her squeeze her eyes shut. She _was_ trying to avoid him, even though she knew he didn't deserve it.

Mac shuffled through her briefcase to pull out her keys. She managed to unlock the door to her office after a moment of trying, and flew in without turning back. After throwing her things on the desk, she flopped down on her chair and sighed with relief.

"That was _the_ worst investigation I have ever had."

Harm arched an eyebrow and shot her a pointed expression. "Really? I seem to recall the _USS Watertown_ having a psychotic member of their medical personnel out to get us. You went temporarily blind?"

She tilted her head with a sigh. "Those two kids were so…"

"Stupid?" he suggested.

She continued without comment. "And I couldn't sleep at all."

"Why's that?"

She stared at him with disbelief. He knew very well that their less-than-comforting showdowns would leave them both unnerved and restless. "I trust there were no problems with my case?"

"It was fine." Harm closed the door to her office and smiled. "Did you hear about the incident at Andrews?"

"No, why?" she leaned forward with interest.

"Apparently after hours, two Lieutenants went to a bar and _revealed_ themselves after winning a scuffle with one of the civilians. The guys were even on ZNN for a little bit."

"ZNN covered _that_?" she fell back into the seat again.

"Guess they had nothing better to do?" Harm shrugged. "It was only for about one minute. Something like the Navy not being able to control its officers."

Mac buried her head in her hands and sighed. "Who's Cresswell sending?"

"Probably the new Lieutenant who transferred here. I think his name was…Troy. He just passed the bar, so he's fresh meat for all those DDO cases."

"Better him than me."

There was a knock at the door. Harm sidestepped out of the way as Mac allowed entry into the office.

Petty Officer Coates stepped in. "Ma'am, the General wants to see-" she spotted Harm and smiled. "Actually, he wants to see you both."

"Thank you Petty Officer," Harm said. He studied Mac as she got up lethargically and sauntered to the door before making a beeline in silence to the office.

Just as Mac was about to see herself in, Coates stopped her. "Ma'am? I suggest that you knock."

Although she didn't understand why it was necessary, Mac obliged and rapped her knuckles against the sturdy oak door.

"Enter!" came Cresswell's muffled voice.

Both she and Harm stepped in hesitantly, and the General motioned towards the chairs in front of his desk.

After they seated themselves, he started, "Colonel Mackenzie, I am assigning you and Lieutenant Troy to Andrews for the indecent exposure case. You can read up on the files if you aren't acquainted with our two flamboyant Lieutenants."

She could not believe his nerve. Mac's mouth opened in protest, but Harm shot her a warning look and she snapped her jaw shut, settling for a much more neutral, "Of course, Sir," instead.

"Commander, you and Lieutenant Commander Roberts can handle prosecution for the Major Stothers case."

"The alleged rape, Sir?"

Cresswell nodded and handed him a file from across the massive desk. "Commander Turner will be defense counsel. I trust you can get past your apparent hostility towards each other."

"Yes, Sir."

The General turned back to his paperwork and slid the spectacles onto his nose. "Dismissed."

Both officers snapped up in attention. Mac twirled around to leave, but Harm stood straight up, not making a move. At the door, she wondered what his intentions were, but shook her head and continued out.

"Is there something else?" Cresswell sighed without looking up from his files.

"It's about Colonel Mackenzie, Sir," Harm started. "She's a great lawyer."

Cresswell leaned back in his chair and furrowed his brow. "I am aware of the praise Admiral Chegwidden has given to the Colonel. You weren't so far down on the list yourself, except your departure from the military service for those few months tarnished your record considerably."

Cresswell was being incredibly straightforward and he was not one to take circumvented routes to get to the point of discussion.

He cleared his throat and continued, attempting to use tact. "Don't you think her talents may be wasted on such minor cases? I mean, Commander Turner is overloaded already. Perhaps the Colonel could help him a bit, and take the Stothers case off his hands."

Cresswell peered at Harm over his eyeglasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose. "Did the Colonel tell you to do this?"

Tact just flew down the toilet. "No, Sir."

"She must have said _something_."

"No, Sir," Harm repeated, determined not to give Mac up to their new boss.

"Do you believe she is too _good_ for such cases?" Cresswell asked coolly.

Harm was reminded of a short phase Chegwidden once went through, in which he punished both he and Mac for believing they were too 'high-and-mighty' for working with DDOs. But this was different, he knew.

"I get the feeling sometimes that the Colonel does not entirely welcome my presence," Cresswell began, closing the folder in front of him and concentrated all his focus on Harm. That was not a good sign.

Harm shifted his gaze to the floor. "That isn't true. But like all of us, it just takes some time for her to get adjusted to a new CO."

"Okinawa."

"Sir?" Harm swallowed, not really wanting to tread in such uncharted waters.

Cresswell laughed softly, as if indulging in a personal joke. "The Colonel is thinking back to when I was Deputy Staff Judge Advocate, back in Okinawa, isn't she? I almost forgot that it was her. _First Lieutenant_ Sarah Mackenzie then, I believe."

"I don't follow," Harm lied, "I was merely trying to suggest that the Colonel's skills should be focused elsewhere, if her work is to truly benefit JAG."

"You believe that I am being biased against her?"

"I do not."

Cresswell nodded thoughtfully, not entirely believing Harm's words. "The Colonel remains on the case, Commander. Tell her I'll send Petty Officer Coates with travel information within the hour."

"Yes, Sir," Harm said behind clenched teeth. He almost scuttled his _own_ place at JAG with Cresswell. "Can I ask one last thing?" The General nodded brusquely. "Perhaps I could take Lieutenant Troy's place for the indecent exposure incident. I'm sure Commander Mattoni could take my spot on the Stothers case, if he isn't needed for anything else."

"Commander," the General admonished, his tone providing no room for argument. He was slightly taken aback by Harm's behaviour. No JAG lawyer in their right mind would give up a high profile case for a run-of-the-mill DDO, and he knew that the Commander's incentives weren't out of complete modesty, or to avoid the limelight. "Dismissed."

Harm nodded and spun on his heel as he left the office. Cresswell had a feeling those two were going to be interesting; they were quite an odd pair.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Coffee and Car Trouble

"I think the General is very pleasant." Sturgis sipped at his coffee and smiled over the mug at Mac as she shuffled through the break room looking for a stirrer. "We've run out."

"Just great," she sighed and leaned back against the countertop. "He may be your type but…"

"I thought you of all people would welcome him with open arms. _Semper Fi_ and everything."

"Sure," she drawled. "That may have been true if he didn't send me for _two_ out-of-HQ investigations consecutively. Semper Fi is right," she raised her mug of unmixed and very unpleasant coffee into the air dramatically.

"Hoorah," Sturgis murmured as he turned around to wash out his empty mug. "Maybe he thinks you're just the best for the job. Don't take it so hard," he offered.

She took in a deep breath and held it as Cresswell walked into the break room, putting an abrupt end to their conversation.

"Did Coates give you the details of your departure?"

"Yes, Sir," she nodded and started to inch her way out of the room before a lengthy discussion could arise, "1100 tomorrow."

"Mac…" Sturgis began, his eyes going wide with alarm. He too tried to leave the room, but Cresswell's form blocked the only route of escape. Mac smiled despite herself; Cresswell was very _pleasant _indeed.

"Colonel Mackenzie," Cresswell called back to her.

She stopped in her tracks, forced a smile and turned around. "Sir?"

"If I could speak to you for a moment."

"Of course."

Sturgis took the opportunity to excuse himself and dashed out before anyone could stop him.

"You _are_ alright with pursuing this DDO," the General asked, opening one of the cupboards and shifting around the contents.

She nodded. A sense of dread left her feeling sick at the pit of her stomach, but she managed to feign nonchalance. "I'm fine, Sir. If I gave you any other impression, General, I apologize. It was inadvertent. I was just a bit worn out from the earlier travelling."

"I'm sure," he continued, "but I believe Commander Rabb thinks I'm being unfair."

Mac fought the sudden urge to run and throttle Harm. Now she knew why he had stayed behind after their briefing. She fell silent. It was as if he was picking her to pieces with his scrutinizing gaze.

Coates flew into the room, and Mac thanked God for the badly needed distraction. "General, SecNav on line two. He says it's urgent."

"I'll be right there," Cresswell said, striding out without a word or look in her direction.

* * *

As Mac and Lieutenant Jeffery Troy sped down the road in the government issued car, a strange sputtering emanated from the automobile.

"That doesn't sound to good, Ma'am," Troy said from the passenger side. "Maybe we should stop."

She nodded in agreement, but the car stalled and stopped itself before she could react. They coasted to the side of the road. Thankfully, the lanes were deserted as far as she could see when they got out. As she rounded to the front of the car, Troy had already popped the hood up. There was nothing visibly wrong with the engine; no smoking, no sparks, no flames. She needed more to make an analysis.

"Do you know much about cars, Lieutenant?"

"Not enough, Ma'am."

"Me neither," she sighed. "I'll go get my cell."

Troy nodded and studied the mechanized innards of the car's engine with a furrowed brow.

She admitted that the investigation had gone without event, even if the whole thing was to her chagrin. Troy was a polite, competent junior lawyer who handled the case with surprising ease. She would occasionally step in and guide him in the correct direction, but he generally handled things by himself, and for that, she was thankful.

As she shuffled through the contents of her briefcase, Mac was alarmed to find no cellular phone. She emptied out most of her belongings onto the seat and sifted through them.

"I must have left it back at the base…"

"No problem," Troy shouted over the roar of a passing pick-up. He went through his pockets to pull out a sleek, black phone. He handed it over the Mac, who sighed in relief; she could smell the imminent rain in the air, and the ominous dark clouds were unsettling.

She flipped the phone open to be greeted by a flashing, bold message _"LOW BATTERY"_. The device shut off automatically to leave her staring at the blank screen in mixed bewilderment and horror.

"Please, no," she muttered. "Lieutenant?"

Troy snatched the phone from her hands, mirroring her dismay. "Oh, no…I guess I forgot to charge it last night, Colonel."

Mac put her hands to her hips and hung her head in disappointment. _She_ had insisted they take a 'short-cut' through the suburban areas, rather than going straight on the congested beltway. Because of that decision, she and Troy were stuck on the forested, undeveloped road, without a house in sight.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Troy said, ashamed with himself, "it was stupid of me. I should have-"

She waved him off. "If I hadn't been so absentminded, we could've used mine. It's not your fault. We just need a way to get out of here."

"Get in the car, Ma'am. We'll try to start it up again."

Mac nodded, snapped the driver door open and slid into her seat. She turned the key forcefully in the ignition, and a drawn out whining erupted from the car's engine as Troy went behind the car and started to push it. Mac decided his chances for successfully propelling the car weren't good; it wasn't that he was unfit, but he was incredibly slim and tall. He could have easily rivaled Harm in height, but lacked the brawn that was obviously needed for such a feet; he was all skin and bones. She was surprised that he didn't snap in the middle because of the excess exertion.

Mac's eyes went wide with a sudden hope and the car rolled forward gently, about four feet before it stopped again. She heard Troy groan loudly and he pressed against the rear bumper of the car with all his might.

"Come on," she whispered fiercely, pressing down on the gas pedal as hard as possible. It was all to no avail, though.

Mac shifted out of the car and jogged to Troy, who was leaning heavily against the trunk of the car breathlessly. "Sorry…Ma'am…I'll try…again."

"Don't give yourself a hernia, Lieutenant. Get in the car, I'll give it a go."

"Ma'am?" he asked dubiously as he pushed himself up. "Are you sure?"

She motioned with her thumb to the driver's seat. "But I'll need your shoes." She slid out of her heels, opened the back door of the car and threw them in. Just as she made her way to Troy's spot, a drizzle came down around them.

Troy didn't question her as he kicked off his loafers and made his way to the car. He got in and yelled out that he was ready. Mac tied on the much-too-big shoes and braced herself behind the car. The familiar wail rose from the car's hood as she started to push the car forward.

The rain came down harder, rapping against everything with such force that the pattering noise nearly overtook the clamor of the car. Mac blew her unruly hair from her face and before she knew it, the car started to roll away from her.

She gave a cry of victory and started to stumble after it. The Lieutenant stopped after a moment, and waited as she clumsily made her way to him in the clown-like footwear. She slid in breathlessly and smiled to the grinning Lieutenant.

"I'll be sure _not_ to tell that to my girlfriend, Ma'am. If anyone asks, can I be the one who saved us?"

Mac arched an eyebrow and laughed, pushing back a lock of damp hair behind her ear. "My lips are sealed, Lieutenant."

* * *

Harm was just about to open the door to his Lexus when he saw the gray car pull up to the parking lot. The rain had stopped no more than fifteen minutes ago, and left a crisp chill in the air. 

The car parked hastily in a spot across from him, and the tall figure of Lieutenant Troy emerged from the driver's side. Harm arched an eyebrow incredulously when he noticed that Troy was lacking in footwear. Troy stood in his spot until the passenger, Mac, came out from the other side and shuffled over to him.

Harm could hear the loud thudding of her feet, and saw that she wore men's shoes. She pushed them off, dropped her own heels on the ground with a 'thunk' and slid back into them. Troy smiled, shook her hand and started in the other direction, towards his own car.

Mac sighed and went towards her 'vette. She saw Harm leaning against her Lexus with a grin.

She put her hand up. "Don't ask."

"That _was_ strange," he laughed.

"Things are not going my way," she said. "Thank God they'll pick up that hunk of junk themselves. I don't want to drive it anymore."

Harm saw as she approached that her uniform was dark and damp. She ran her fingers through her hair and squeezed out a few drops of water before placing her briefcase to the floor and getting out her keys.

"What happened?"

She brought her arm to the roof of her car and leaned up against it with a huff. "I had to push the car in the rain. Why? Because the damned thing stalled, but my cell phone got misplaced, and Lieutenant Troy's cell phone died. I also decided to take the _scenic_ route back home from Andrews Airforce Base, because General Cresswell sent me there and because he hates me."

Harm winced. "I see."

"My feet are killing me."

"Cresswell's given you another new case, you know. Told me to inform you of it."

She frowned and threw her hands up with exasperation. "Don't tell me…to Quantico for some Lieutenant who vandalized the _head_ with spray paint. Or Norfolk, or-"

"Actually, right here. With me."

"Oh," she said, losing her angry momentum. "Good."

"We're both on the prosecution team against Lieutenant Jacob Le Salle, accused of murdering fellow crewman Petty Officer Simon Keefe. Mattoni's going to try to pull one on us, it's been a while since we've been on the same side. The problem is Keefe is the nephew of the three-star, Admiral Peterson."

"It has been a while," she agreed, "but I thought we were a pretty good team."

"We _are_ a damn good team," he corrected, "and we'll show that to Mattoni."

"I'm sure we will. And as long as I don't have to leave again on investigation, I'll work my butt off on this," Mac nodded. Her mind wandered to her conversation with Cresswell in the break room. "Harm?"

"Yeah."

"I appreciate what you did for me. I didn't…I didn't deserve it," she said honestly, "but if Cresswell hears about my constant complaining, I'm out of here."

It took him a moment to realize that she was referring to his little 'chat' with the General. "Sorry, Mac. I thought I'd just give it a try, even if it was of no use."

"And I understand that," she said gently, choosing her choice of words carefully, "that's why I said thanks. I just think you'd better leave my problems with him to me…I don't want you to get mixed up unnecessarily, just when you've gotten back to the Navy."

Harm conceded with a shrug. "I guess Cresswell isn't out to get you after all. I think he just wanted Lieutenant Troy to have the best mentor possible for his first case here."

"Maybe," Mac shrugged, "although I'd have picked you."

"You'd better get home then. I doubt you feel very comfortable in that," he motioned towards her damp uniform and chose to ignore her comment.

She felt sticky, heavy and cold. Mac nodded and started to take a step back to go back to her side of the car. "See you later."

"Bye," he waved slightly and went into his own vehicle.

Just as she was about to duck to get into the car, his voice stopped her and she poked her head up. "What?"

"Do you want a ride? You look pretty…dead."

"I appreciate it," she smirked, "I know I don't look like a million bucks…"

He put his hands up. "No, no, you look great."

The smile fell from her face as she wrung her hands together nervously. "Thanks."

"I'm just guessing you're tired."

"I am," she admitted, "but I don't want to get your car all soppy."

"It needs a clean anyway."

"I'd be imposing."

He shook his head, a bit annoyed at her continual protest. "If you were, I wouldn't have offered."

"How would I get to work tomorrow?" The question sounded lame even in her ears.

"I'll pick you up in the morning and get you here."

"Are you sure this is what we need right now?" He shot her a quizzical look. "After everything."

Harm sighed and opened his car door, abruptly sliding into the seat. "Fine Mac, goodnight."

She hadn't said 'no', but he didn't need her constant indecision on his mind. He took of his cover and placed it neatly in the middle of the empty passenger seat.

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper. Her throat felt dry and swollen, and she didn't look back to him as she started up the Corvette and left the JAG lot.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Victory

A/N - I actually missed the "Camp Delta" episode yesterday, and I can't stop kicking myself in the back of the head. "One Big Boat" wasn't that great...and I was really looking forward to this week's ep...oh well...hopefully I didn't miss anything that great.

Continuing...

* * *

"Le Salle was seen arguing with Keefe the night before in accident below deck." 

"Keefe seemed to have a lot of problems with the crew," Mac pointed out, shuffling through the eyewitness reports on their new case. "He was _not_ a popular guy. People harassed him all the time."

"Yes," Harm said distractedly as he pulled out a paper of particular interest from the mess on his desk, "but did the rest of the crew break his nose?"

"What?" Mac asked with renewed interest. So far, their evidence had been circumstantial at best, but they had started to dig up a bit on Le Salle's belligerent character, which would help substantially with the case.

"Keefe came in with a broken nose three two months before. Even the Skipper admitted to seeing him get into a short verbal fight with Le Salle."

"But he wasn't held accountable?"

Harm shook his head, perusing the files with interest, "No. Keefe didn't even press charges."

"Figures. But don't worry, I'm sure we'll get him."

"We don't have much to work with."

"But we are a good team," she smirked with amusement. "_Damn_ good I believe?"

Harm eyed the door, a smile playing on his lips when he spotted the General coming in the direction of Mac's office. Cresswell stepped inside, at which point Mac noted his presence. Both officers stood at attention, when he beckoned them back to sit down with a wave.

"SecNav's been breathing down my neck."

"Sir?"

"I just wanted to inform you that this will be a high profile case. Media are on it, even though the hearings haven't begun," Cresswell said bluntly, crossing his arms, "and while you need to work to the best of your ability, everything needs to be handled with tact. Admiral Peterson is doing everything possible to impede the defense, and making a scene of it as he does so."

"We hope to use as much tact as possible," Harm said as he nodded. "And I've had the…pleasure of talking with the Admiral before. I'm sure he'll back down and let JAG handle it if we just give him some time." Truth be told,Petersonwas a bit of a prude, and got overly nosey when things didn't work out in his favour. But Harm decided to give him a break, the man did just lose a nephew.

Cresswell nodded and smiled, taking both officers aback with his kindly expression. He took a step back and started out the door before turning around, throwing one last comment in Mac's direction. "This _will_ be a change from your last two cases, won't it?"

She shifted her gaze to the floor as he chuckled to himself quietly and left the office, leaving a wake of silence behind him.

"Interesting."

"Maybe he isn't out to get me," she echoed Harm's words from the night before.

"It's like whenever life at JAG comes back to normal, something shakes it up again. You were probably counting on the worst. We've all come to expect that," he stated matter-of-factly, balancing his pen between his forefinger and thumb.

"I was paranoid."

He focused his attention on keeping the pen seesawing on the tip of his index finger. "You _really_ were."

"I'm getting a cold," she sniffed and knocked the pen from his grip with a swipe of her hand.

"I would expect that, with the condition you were in last night."

She buried her face in her hands and leaned back in the plush chair. "They say it's going to start snowing soon, give it a week or two."

"Oh yeah," Harm got up from the chair in front of her desk and started out the door. "Christmas is almost a month away, you know," he fingered the top button on his jacket and eyed her thoughtfully.

"Driving is going to be a nuisance," she spat out, throwing _all_ the possible romanticism from the mood out the window.

He sighed. "Yeah, it will be."

"A pain in the butt," she continued, averting his gaze, and very well knowing what he was thinking.

He nodded again and put his hand up in a wave goodbye. "I'll see you later. NCIS is going to forward the crime scene reports by the end of today. And if they don't, I'll have their asses on a platter."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"Hey, there are a few advantages to having a mean, green Marine on your side. Even _I_ was surprised about that."

She arched and eyebrow incredulously. "You're going to use the General as your lapdog?"

"How do you know I wasn't talking about you?" his eyes twinkled, but his expression remained deceptively somber as he closed the door after exiting.

She hadn't seen him look that way in a long time. Before Paraguay, perhaps. But she knew the mischievous look.

She didn't understand why he continued to act so mannerly towards her, and why she returned the notion with such ease. They hadn't been strangers to the odd disputes with each other, but never had they had such laconic (albeit explosive) reactions. Time had healed all the old wounds. But more often than not, _time_ felt like a Band-Aid on a broken arm.

They had matured, she realized, past the pettiness; they no longer needed months and months to buffer their hurt.

There was so much tension and awkwardness that extended much past the arguing, but now, it was as if they were back to normal a mere two weeks after the initial incident. It felt strange, and she was just a bit disappointed that they weren't going to work it out the way she had hoped. But she knew that she hadn't made it any easier for him.

Sometimes, she wanted to start anew, forget everything that had happened and create a friendship all over again. But then she decided she wouldn't trade all that they had shared together over the years for _anything_ in the world, even if it meant getting rid of all the ache.

_

* * *

_

_Two Weeks Later…_

"Lieutenant Jacob Le Salle, on the charge and specifications of first degree murder, this court find you guilty," the lead juror said from the booth at the right of the courtroom.

"This court is adjourned until penalty phase, 1100 tomorrow," the judge said as he slammed the gavel down and gathered his belongings to exit to the rear chambers.

Harm put his arm up and made a fist in a show of silent victory. Mac, being ever apathetic about the verdict, got up neatly and shook hands with Mattoni. Le Salle shot her a glare with his droopy eyes as he stood up. He took a step in her direction and Mac eyed him incredulously.

"We still have the sentencing," Mattoni muttered to Le Salle. He whispered something else into the man's ear that sounded like _'don't lose it'_.

"Ma'am," Le Salle said tightly, "I guess I'll see you around."

Mac nodded to him as the guards escorted him out of the room. He never took his eyes off her and Harm as he departed. After clearing up their files, the two walked to the elevator. The doors shut with an affirming 'ping' as the car descended.

Mac leaned back against the wall of the car and trailed her fingers through her tied hair, ensuring it was all in place. "Good job on the cross-examination of the crewmembers."

"Good job to you on everything else," Harm said. "We need to get him life without, Mac. Mattoni will try to argue for less."

"I know," she said. "But the hard part is over. How about we go for a victory-" The elevator doors slid open, and Mac's eyes went wide as she saw Mattie Grace on the other side, pounding the buttons impatiently.

"Harm? Colonel Mackenzie?" Mattie exclaimed upon seeing them. "Where were you?"

"Court," Harm said, exiting the elevator and leading Mattie towards the exit of the building. "No school for her," he explained to Mac.

His time with Mattie was becoming more sparse and drawn out. It was only a matter of weeks before she would be going back to her father, and he had wanted to savor their last few moments together. He knew they would still see each other afterwards, but he liked it more when she was all to him.

Harm glanced out through the front door. He put on his cover which was tucked neatly under his arm before ushering Mac and Mattie out to the lot. He could already see the two camera crews that the General had allowed on grounds for the hearing as they awaited the lawyers to exit the building, like vultures awaiting their next meal.

"Take a deep breath," he threw over his shoulder.

There were a few flashes as one of the men took multiple shots of the victorious prosecution. A mousy, gray-haired man shoved a microphone in Mac's nose. "Colonel Mackenzie? Do you think this case was based too much on hearsay and inference? Are you one-hundred percent sure you have the right man?"

"We did our job, Sir. The members decided the verdict," she stopped herself from snapping at the buzzing TV crews before taking a step out of the circle of people. Harm nudged her out, directing several 'no comments' in the direction of a few determined reporters before jogging behind her and Mattie to their cars. A surprised Alan Mattoni was then bombarded by the reporters as they saw him exit the building.

"All they need is pitchforks and torches," Harm breathed, "and then they'll eat you alive."

"_You_ didn't end up on TV during the televised court-martial. I have no idea what the Admiral was thinking when he allowed that," Mac frowned, eyeing the crowd as they ambushed poor Mattoni. "Truth be told, I was a bit insulted that Craig Kilborn didn't show much interest in my in-court tactics."

"I'm taking Mattie out to lunch," Harm laughed, throwing his keys to the young girl, who caught the jingling bundle deftly before proceeding to the passenger side.

"See you then," Mac sighed, her previous hopes shot down as she opened her own car. She didn't really know why she had followed Harm to the lot, but remembered that she had needed to pick up some files from home anyway.

Harm got into the driver's seat and watched Mac as an awkward silence hung in the air. Mattie glanced at him and jabbed him in the gut with her elbow. He shot a glare in the girl's direction and cleared his throat as he beckoned Mac back. "Would you like to join us?"

She waved him off, "I'd be a third wheel, Harm."

He opened his mouth to protest but she closed the door to her car before he could say anything. He glanced at Mattie who looked at him reproachfully, but he changed the subject. "So, where'd you want to eat? Italian? I was thinking of a little bistro more in-town."

"You should have asked her to come again."

Mac's Corvette had backed out and was turning to the exit. He shook off a growing notion of regret before turning his key in the ignition.

"She said _no_," Harm insisted, "and that's all she seems to be saying lately."

"She was about to ask you out to lunch before she saw me. Harm, I just ruined your plans with her."

"They have really good pasta there- and there weren't any _plans_."

"Possible plans," Mattie rebuked. "She said 'go for a victory-'…what do you think she wanted to say?"

"I made plans with you first," he shot back and before Mattie could say another word, he continued, "so, how was dinner with your Dad last night?"

* * *

TBC... 


	6. Injurious Accidents

A/N - I felt very shippery (inventing adjectives is a hobby of mine), and wanted this chapter to start a slightly lighter side of my story. I've been trying to post this up for some time, but the recent downtimes on haven't helped. :)

* * *

Mac managed to shift the folders from under her arm into the box on her desk before letting her briefcase down beside her. After a moment of juggling, she placed all her belongings onto the cardboard box, slid her hands into the slots on the sides, and picked it up with a groan. 

The snow had started to fall earlier that day, leaving a thin layer of frost on the ground. Most of the flakes melted instantaneously after hitting the ground, but many continued to float down lazily, taking their place.

Finally, after much exertion, she had managed to bring the files outside and was starting towards her 'vette. She put the box down for a moment and sighed, swallowing hard and straightening her cover on her head.

Harm stood at the JAG building steps and watched as she bent over to get the box again. He jogged towards her as his feet crunched against the icy ground, rounded Mac's front and grabbed her suitcase from the top, considerably lightening the load.

"I have weak wrists," she heaved as she continued on her way, "and I remind you that I pushed a goddamn car."

"I know."

Mac opened her car door, slid the box into the backseat and closed it, turning around and leaning against the car door. "Have a nice time with Mattie?"

He nodded and stepped back towards his Lexus. "Why the box?"

"I'm convinced that I need to re-organize my caseloads. My desk looks like a mess."

"Scared of Cresswell?"

"Hell yes," she breathed. "Need to impress him with _something_."

Harm opened her car door and smiled, throwing the briefcase into the passenger seat. "I thought so. But you even admitted today that you were being paranoid _and_ you just won a high-profile murder trial."

Mac rounded him and went to close the door. She swung her arm against it with a frown and sighed. Harm yelped in surprise and pain, withdrawing his hand from the car door and cuffed it gingerly. "The door!"

"Oh, God. Harm?" she hurried over to him and examined his right hand, where a long cut left the flesh torn and frayed along his index and middle finger. The blood had already started to drip down his wrist and stained the white shirt of his uniform that peeked from under the jacket. "I'm so sorry! We'd better get you to the emergency room."

He hissed in a breath and pulled his hand away from her. "I just need a bandage."

She pushed him to his Lexus, grabbing the keys from his pocket as she went. "Get in."

Mac slid into the driver's seat after ushering him to the passenger side. She leaned towards him, seeing a tissue box between the two seats. She grabbed several and pressed them against his fingers, and watched with unease as the light color of the tissue quickly succumbed to the inky blood. "We'll go now, alright?"

He nodded and leaned back in the chair, squeezing the tissues to his hand and sighing heavily. "Fine. My it's starting to go numb anyway."

She adjusted the seat in the vehicle to her own stature before she sped out of the lot and onto the virtually deserted road.

* * *

Five stitches later ("It didn't hurt!" Harm had insisted), they were in front of Harm's apartment. The white, unattractive bandages made his two fingers appear swollen, and diminished his motor skills considerably. He fumbled with the keys for a moment, cursing under his breath as he tried to hold them properly between his forefinger and thumb. 

She leaned against the wall, studying him and restraining herself from snatching the keys from his hand and opening the door herself. Finally, he turned them in the lock and pushed his way inside, taking another few seconds to get a grasp on the keys and pull them out.

Mac followed, holding his suitcase in her right hand, and hers in the other. She went to the couch and dropped their things and spun around, preparing to leave before she would need to free herself from any awkward moments. Harm closed the door behind him slowly and watched her as she eyed the door with interest.

"You want some tea? I mean, it's late. Just something before you drive home."

"We weren't there for that long."

"More like two hours."

"One hour and forty-six minutes," she sighed, taking off her cover and studying it in her hands. "Those hospital chairs should be…illegal. My back is killing me."

He walked towards the counter and opened a cupboard beneath the surface, pulling out a box of Tetley. "I'm not much of a tea-enthusiast. Don't have all those weird assortments."

"Neither do I." She conceded defeat and followed him. She gently pried the box from his grasp and arched an incredulous brow. "I'll get it ready. It's been a tough night for you."

Harm furrowed his brow, studying his clumsy looking hand and prodding at his index finger. "I've been through much worse."

"Stop that."

He shrugged off his jacket and carefully removed his arm from the sleeve before throwing the clothing across the room to the couch. He missed the target by about three meters; the jacket was left in a messy heap beside the window.

Mac laughed and started up Harm's stove before filling his kettle with water. "I'm really sorry, you know."

"Don't worry about it."

"Really," she maintained, "if I wasn't so careless-"

"Fine then," he interrupted, irritated by her unrelenting apologies, rounding the counter to sit on one of the barstools, "you'll _owe_ me. Are you happy now?"

Mac shot him a pointed look before readying the cups in front of her. He looked perfectly serious, and decided to elicit a carefully though out response upon seeing his face. "That depends."

"On what?" his eyebrows shot up, not expecting such a reaction.

"Well, if you wanted to get even and slam _my_ finger in the car door, I'd say _no deal_."

"That wasn't what I had in mind," he muttered, watching her as she poured the freshly boiled water over the teabags.

"I'd like to know what you _do_ have in mind," she said, pushing the cup towards him.

He blew over the steaming mug before using his good hand to hold it to his lips. "I'll think of something when the circumstances arise."

"You don't leave all these open opportunities to Squids and _hope_ they'll do the right thing," she murmured, "because they never do."

Mac traced his previous path and took a place on the barstool to the left of him. He eyed her thoughtfully before continuing. "So, you think Cresswell's alright now?"

She considered for a moment, weighing all the factors in her mind, as she peered at him through her lashes. "Now that I know he's not going to make life hell…I guess so."

"But still…" Harm prompted, feeling her trail of thought was not yet complete.

"With a new guy here, the Admiral really being gone hits you," she finished. He nodded and continued to sip the tea mindfully. "With Sturgis in his spot, it was a bit different, that's all."

"The whole office misses Chegwidden," Harm agreed, "and we were all a bit anxious. You just showed it more than everyone else."

Her initial reaction was to debunk his statement, but she realized it was true. Through the corner of her eye, she could see the glow cast off by the street lights below, and the jovial bouncing of the snowflakes as they whirled around, getting caught in the updrafts, and falling victim to gravity at the same time.

"It's coming down harder," Harm said, noticing her gaze linger at the window, "driving _is_ going to be a pain."

"But Christmas is closer," Mac reminded him of his words the other day. She shifted her cup to the table, noticing she had been left with the last dregs of her tea for some time; she tucked the thought away at the back of her mind.

"Looking forward to it now, I see."

"I just hope it's…satisfactory," she admitted. "I mean, I'm setting my standards low. Things haven't been exactly going my way lately."

He nodded and put his own mug on the table, propping his head up with his arm. "Maybe I can use your 'IOU' now."

Mac bent her head towards him with interest. "Go on."

"You owe me…dinner on Christmas Eve."

"Oh." The shape of her mouth mirrored the sound perfectly.

"Unless you have plans."

"You and the girls…you're a family, and I-"

"If you're really so uncomfortable you should know…" Harm swallowed hard. He hadn't told her yet. "Jen's taking Christmas off and going out with a few of her friends from her classes. Mattie is spending the Christmas break with her dad, back at Blacksburg." He changed the subject before she could question it further. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I just thought we could talk."

"Wait," she said, ignoring the second part of his response, "you and her…"

"Mac…" he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Harm."

"She's happy. That's all that matters. And what we had was great while it lasted." He rubbed the back of his neck and flexed his bad hand on the counter in front of him.

Mac shifted her cup around in small circular pathways on the counter in front of her, unaware of the unnerving scraping noise that filled the room. "I think she really helped you overcome everything. Of all things, _she_ was probably a positive influence on _you_."

"Was I really that incorrigible?"

"I never said that," she smiled, "but I'm proud of what you did for her."

"Thanks," he said genuinely.

"Not that you need my praise, Harm. You've never needed it to do what you believe in."

Both of them were done with their drinks, but neither made a move to end the conversation.

"That's not true," he said immediately. "You don't know what your support means to me, Mac. The _lack_ of it nearly killed me after Paraguay."

Her breath caught in her throat and she got up, taking her mug with her. She went to his sink and washed it out absentmindedly. "Paraguay was a mistake. You know I'm sorry for it all, right?"

He didn't respond. She turned around and saw he hadn't budged, hoping that he wasn't still resenting her. "I should have been there for you when you went to the CIA. I knew the Navy was what you lived for."

"I'm sorry also."

"What for?"

"Things just went downhill when we didn't talk to each other properly. That's my fault, too."

Mac sighed and leaned forward on the counter slightly while rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I was stupider."

"I could argue with you for days about which one of us is at fault more, but I think we'd go around in circles," he groaned as he pushed himself up. "I guess the whole 'talking' thing is why I tried so hard after the investigation that day, with the pizza and all, to get the ball rolling."

She nodded and started to her discarded belongings on the couch. "I understand."

"I guess I kicked the ball the other goddamn way, huh?"

"If you did, I think we just got it back on track." She smiled as she hung her coat on her arm as Harm went to the door and opened it for her, watching her as she stepped into the hall.

"Goodnight, Mac."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she nodded, "and about dinner?"

He had almost forgotten and tried to hide the surprise (and overwhelming elation) from his face. "Yeah?"

"I'd like to talk, too. About everything."

Harm decided to walk her to the elevator and followed her as she went down the hall. Each quiet click of her heels made his spine tingle; maybe everything was finally working out. She went into the elevator car, and he helped her close the door. The loud squeaking and scraping of the hinges nearly made her jump, but she managed to feign nonchalance, shifting her belongings in her arms.

"I like it more when we end our day like this," he said.

"Me too," she acceded, taking a step towards him and putting her hand up to the heavy metal grate.

He mirrored her move with his good hand and squeezed her fingers through the tiny holes. He was in a sudden state of euphoria, and before he could form a coherent thought in his head, he reached further, brushing his fingers to her wrist. He was then aware of each pulsing beat that emanated to the tips of his fingers as his heart stepped it up a notch.

Mac withdrew, extricating herself from his grasp and let out a great sigh. "I'd better get to bed. Need to impress Cresswell, remember? Can't very well do that when I look all haggardly and drowsy."

"Bye."

Harm finally closed the full outer door as she waved back and pressed the button to descend. The elevator moaned softly before moving below, but she kept her gaze on him until he was out of sight.

* * *

TBC 


	7. Fumes?

"What happened to you, Sir?" Bud asked as he spotted Harm's bandaged fingers.

"Car door," he mumbled as he tried to open a plastic container with his ungainly appendages. Finally, Bud eased the lid open for him and set the container on the countertop.

"Ouch."

Harm shrugged and poked through the contents with his fork. "I think Mac left this here last week."

"It doesn't look very new," Bud said as he peered over Harm's shoulder to look at the lump of noodles that sat stagnant in the container. "Or edible. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if _bacteria_ had trouble growing on it."

Harm sighed and took the container to the garbage bin, dumping out its contents. "She'll eat anything if she's hungry. I'd better get rid of this before she has one of those urges."

The two of them left the break room and headed towards their offices; the quiet times with Bud and simply _talking _with his friend were valued to the fullest extent now that he was back at JAG. It had been hell at the CIA, but he was desperate for work, and as much as he hated to admit it, being a spook had changed him. It was no wonder that Webb sometimes acted the way he did, but Harm refused to sympathize with the man after Paraguay.

With a quick bid goodbye, Bud slipped into his and closed the door behind him. Harm continued towards his own, glancing at Mac's closed door on the way. Her office was dark and quiet; she was still at court.

"I'm choking here!" came Sturgis' baritone voice over the gentle lulling of the office noises.

"What?" Harm's gaze didn't waver from her door, but his face showed the evident annoyance.

The submariner came into view and poked him in the shoulder. "One day, the whole JAG staff's going to end up at Bethesda with some sickness from fume inhalation."

"What're you talking about?" Harm frowned, narrowing his eyes as he leaned against the door.

"When I walk into a room with you and Mac – the tension. I could choke on it like noxious gas, I could cut it with a knife, I could-"

Harm waved him off, opening the door to his own office. "You're starting to sound like _Sam-I-Am_."

Their battered friendship had perched on a rocky precipice only a week ago, but it felt good to have Turner back as a friend. He admitted he had been unfair, and perhaps bitter towards Sturgis, but it didn't change the way Harm had felt about him when he was acting JAG. Thinking back sometimes feltlike a blow to the stomach.

Before Sturgis could rebuke, Harm was inside. He flopped onto his chair and starting up the word processing file he had begun earlier that day that outlined his closing arguments for an upcoming court martial.

_"Petty Officer Maclean did what any of us would do if…"_ – that sentence alone had taken him five minutes to type. His clunky fingers would often hit wrong buttons and keys, and it would take him several more moments to backspace and erase the errors. He whacked the keyboard with frustration, and a long string of letters came up the screen as he continued to apply pressure to the 'y' key.

Mac knocked on his door and smiled. "It doesn't look like you're having much fun."

A pleasant grin spread on his face and he leaned back. After a moment, he buried his face in his hands, succumbing to the frustration. "This is horrible. I haven't been able to get much done. We rely way too much on computers nowadays."

"You sound like a grandpa," she chortled, but quickly sobered up and sighed after seeing the one, pitiful sentence on the screen. "I'm really sorry, Harm."

"I'm not blaming you. It's just the bandages are a pain."

She crouched down over the keyboard and shot him a look to continue with his trail of thought. "Go on."

"Hmm?"

"What else were you going to say?" She rolled her eyes.

Harm stared at her for a moment before realizing what she was talking about. "Mac, go do _your_ work."

"This'll only take a bit and I can do my stuff at home. After all, I got you into this crux."

"Alright," Harm started dubiously. He got up and pushed a chair to her, "but sit down."

She fell back with gratitude to the seat and poised her slender fingers over the keyboard. "Ready."

"…Petty Officer Maclean did what any of us would do if his fellow crewman and friend was in jeopardy. He took initiative, the very same initiative that is promoted at the naval academy, when he took action..."

* * *

_Some Time Later..._

She got up and dusted off her skirt with a huff. "Another job done. It's quite good…for you I mean."

"I guess the IOU is null and void."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." He looked at her quizzically. "Don't pull a 'Mackenzie' and weasel out of our plans, Harm."

Our plans, he thought. It sounded so nice and surreal. "I won't. But I'm just saying it's different now."

"You mean it's totally neutral?"

"Totally."

"Were you thinking of where we'd go?" she asked, leaning forward on his desk.

Harm ran his fingers through his hair and furrowed his brow. "Sticking to the neutral theme…I'd say apartments are out of the question."

"Of course. We need common ground," she nodded. It was bothering her that they needed to think so hard about something as simple as a meal together, but decided it was better than making mistakes later. It was true; everything _was_ complicated between them.

"Let's go out, then."

"Where?"

"I know a Thai place on K Street. They have some decent veggie stuff…and dead animal for you."

"Sounds great," she rubbed her hands together with exaggerated anticipation. "When?"

"Not too early."

"But not too late," she added hastily, knowing she sounded ridiculous.

"1800?"

She glanced out the window to see the snowfall. It had escalated considerably from the night before, and she had seen the JAG caretakers shoveling the front walkway in the morning. "How about 1830?"

"Fine with me. I'll pick you up then," he said, feeling utterly thrilled at the meaning behind his words. It could have been at 0200 at the Beltway Burger and he wouldn't have cared. He just needed so badly to come to an understanding with her.

Mac nodded and started to exit. "I'm looking forward to it," she stated matter-of-factly.

Harm remembered the night before, and the electrical feeling of her touch. It surprised him that just grazing her fingers could evoke such powerful feelings in him. He had never been incredibly romantic or maudlin; he generally shook of such notions, dismissing them as foolish. A long time ago, when he was much younger, friends had sometimes described to him what they felt when they were so totally enraptured by another person. He was polite, happy for them, but secretly thought they were overly sentimental and naïve.

He realized some time later that _he_ was the naïve one, after he started to feel the same way about Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie.

* * *

TBC...

(I love Green Eggs and Ham - a masterpiece if there ever was one)


	8. Beirut

_Almost Two Weeks Later_

_Christmas Eve – 1700 Local Time_

Mac couldn't stop walking with a visible bounce in her step. It had been months since she'd had a night out, and the fact that she was going with Harm only made her more excited. Sometimes, reality hit her when she realized this wasn't a normal 'dating' dinner; they were going to talk. She collected herself up quite quickly whenever the thought arose.

The JAG staff had been reduced in numbers considerably as many had left early for vacations to spend the week with their families, something that both she and Harm sadly lacked.

She shuffled into her office and glanced under her desk, where she had kept Harm's Christmas present. She probably should have given it to him sooner, but wanted to have something for him during their dinner.

She peeked out her office door into the nearly deserted bullpen where a young Lieutenant was cleaning up her files and heading out. Bud had gone home to Harriet and the boys (a simple action which she truly envied), and there were about three other people left in the office. Harm was finishing up an interview with a possible DUI case witness that no one else had volunteered to take, and was expected to be stuck in the interrogation room for some time.

"Colonel Mackenzie!" Cresswell's urgent voice made her step out of her office and face her CO.

"Sir?"

"Office," he breathed before jogging back. With Coates off on vacation, Cresswell had been performing most of his yeoman's duties for the week.

In the office, the TV blared loudly as a reporter stood in a flurry of confusion in front of a large building. "Martin Leeds reporting from the American Embassy in Beirut for BBC, and corresponding for ZNN, where a riot has started to break out in front of the building."

The camera panned over the outer grounds of the embassy, past the iron fence where hundreds of people were pushing against each other. Many protesters had taken to throwing rocks into the confines of the embassy as they yelled and shouted at the officials within. Several Marines stood at attention between the reporters and the angry mob, armed and ready, but apathetic of the noises from without.

"The United States government has withheld prisoner Haydar Madani, a Lebanese citizen who was accused of murdering two Marine guards earlier in the week. Specifics of the case have not yet been given to the general American public, but it is feared that everyone within the embassy is in jeopardy. An evacuation is being considered…"

Cresswell sighed. "The general public believes Madani is innocent, Colonel. Our refusal to release him back to the Lebanese has not been looked at well," he took his glasses from the desk behind him and wiped them with a handkerchief. "With the war going on, foreigners are seeing us more and more as self-righteous Yanks who only have our interests in mind."

"A few years ago, I went on TAD to the Guadalcanal. Onboard, I was assigned to an incident in Indonesia where much the same thing happened. We were overrun," Mac said, captivated by the angry sounds of the men and women on the screen. "If we don't find a way to control the crowd…"

"The ambassador informed me that the consulate is lacking Judge Advocates, when the last one was shipped out a week ago after he experienced a near-fatal heart attack," Cresswell began. "If the situation gets under control, we'll need to negotiate with the Lebanese government to avoid future predicaments. The officials aren't experienced with the law."

"Sir…" Mac knew what he was getting at. She felt selfish, holding her personal priorities above her duties, but her personal life had been taking a beating lately. She deserved something, didn't she?

"I know it may be unfair to send someone out like this during the holidays, but we do have a situation on our hands."

"I know, General."

Cresswell took that as an affirming response and pulled out a paper from his desk which he had readied earlier. "I'd like to send you and Lieutenant Troy out to Beirut. Your previous experience with delegating is what prompted me to pick you. I've already inquired about the flights. The next one is aboard a civilian craft, leaving at 2200 and you need to be at the airport by 2030 - at the latest."

Mac nodded with defeat, taking the paper that he held out to her and started out of the office. "Shall I call the Lieutenant?"

"I've already notified him. He was thrilled at the opportunity of handling this case…possibly the only person in the office who wouldn't mind missing out on Christmas," Cresswell smiled in a feeble attempt to lift her low mood.

"Goodbye, Sir" she said, taking in a deep, shuddering breath before leaving.

Outside, she trudged towards her office to gather her things and leave, taking special care in bringing Harm's present with her. She found a scrap paper in her drawer and scribbled a note to her partner, sticking it on his door before she left.

* * *

As Harm walked back to his office to get his things, he noticed Mac was nowhere to be seen. He knocked on her door, getting no response and glanced left and right to see if she was approaching. He started towards his own door to see a pinned up notice, written in her flowing handwriting. 

_General's sending me to Lebanon to handle crisis. Need to be at airport soon and went home to pack. Sorry about the IOU. I hope you're still holding me to it, though._

_- Mac_

He rushed inside and fumbled around to get all his things, wanting to catch her before she left. He managed to juggle everything in his arms before heading out the door.

Cresswell was just exiting his own office when his voice stopped Harm. "Commander?"

He froze and turned around, swallowing hard. "Sir? I am allowed to leave, right?"

The General nodded and glanced at his watch. "I think she's a bit hungry, incase you wanted to know."

Harm, clearly confused by Cresswell's words, nodded fervently and dashed out before another word could be uttered between them.

* * *

A ring from the doorbell prompted Mac to tear herself away from her baggage and enter the family room. She opened the door to reveal Harm with a large plastic bag of takeout, adorned with the blocky writing of "Harry's Palace" on the front, a place just down the street from the apartment. 

"Hungry?"

"Harm…I need to be at the airport soon."

He flew in past her and dropped the things on her coffee table. "I forgot plastic forks. You have forks?"

She nodded towards the kitchen and started back into her own room to finish with her things. She folded one more shirt into the roll-along before conceding to the nagging voice in the back of her head, and going back to meet Harm.

He had organized the three oily-looking boxes in a straight line on her dining table and managed to set up the utensils in a vaguely cultured fashion, although she didn't understand why; forks or chopsticks would generally suffice for cheap takeout.

"Bon appetite," he grinned, sitting down and bidding her to do the same.

She arched an eyebrow and conceded, rounding the table to sit beside him. "You've outdone yourself, Commander."

"I know," he smiled as he opened the first box, peeking inside, making a face and passing it to her. "Chicken."

She accepted it and took one of the forks from the table, twisting up a bundle of noodles. She shoved the heap into her mouth and chewed it with gratitude. "Nothing has ever tasted so great."

"You know that Gunnery Sergeant with the DUI I just did?" She nodded. "Well, I'm going to suggest to the General that a new subcategory be made: DDUI"

"DDUI?" she rolled her eyes, but smiled at the notion.

"Definitely driving under the influence. Mac, the kid was totally stoned. I asked him his name and rank - he gave me his mother's name. I told him to write down his birthday and he spelt January with an 'x'."

She sighed. "I got that impression when I led him into the waiting room. He couldn't form a coherent sentence."

"I wasted forty-five minutes for nothing," he groaned and took his own box. "I'll drive you to the airport. I heard what happened on the radio. It may be some time before you come back."

"Yerp," she murmured through her full mouth which distorted her speech slightly. "Ish a pretty big messh." She swallowed and downed the glass of water in front of her to help the food go down. "Hopefully, the embassy will still be there when I arrive."

"When you went to the Guadalcanal…" he started.

Was it really so long ago - with Brumby and Renee? What had happened to his friendship with Mac during all those years? He remembered hearing of the fall of the Embassy in Indonesia, and finding out that she was among the officials posted there. Initially, he thought she was still on the Guadalcanal, until the Admiral had informed him. If anything had happened, he would have had to live with knowing he had driven her away, across the Atlantic, and into that dangerous position.

Mac cleared her throat. "I'm sure this wasn't what you had in mind for a night out."

"As long as we're both here, it's great."

She let her empty box sit on the table and pushed her chair back, a bit uncomfortable at his sudden closeness. "I need to finish packing."

Mac managed to drag her things out into the family room, and left them beside the door breathlessly. He sat on the couch, reading the TV Guide from many weeks ago. She had cancelled her short-lived subscription, deciding that she watched TV about as much as she flew in Tomcats.

"CSI…Mattie loves that show," Harm said, flipping through the pages. "That and The OC. What's it about?"

"Teens," Mac said simply. "Don't tell me you're expecting me to watch it." She flopped down on the couch beside Harm and studied him as he leaned back.

"Mac?" he said, not meeting her gaze. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will, since I have a dinner to come back to..." the corners of her lips curved up ever so slightly.

"I'll be here whenever you're ready."

"You could've gone home and changed out of uniform," she said as she boldly reached out and tugged at his tie, pulling him slightly towards her.

He smiled as she started to undo it from his neck, gently easing it out of the knot. "You're still in yours."

"I had no choice. You were just stubborn."

"I wanted to say goodbye before you left."

She sighed, pulling the tie out from under the collar of the jacket and letting it rest against her leg. She ran her fingers across it and suddenly remembered. "I have your present!"

"It can wait," he insisted, following her as she got up and went back into her room.

Mac emerged with a medium-sized box, decorated with a dark blue wrapping paper that shined even in the dullest light, and silver ribbon adorning all sides. It reminded him of the ocean on an early morning when it was overcast, as he saw from aircraft carriers during his flying days. The sun would glint only on certain areas of the water, illuminating them in brilliant light, but everything else remained an ominous cobalt color.

"Open it now." She had wrapped it carefully, and taken longer on it than any other present – although she'd never, ever tell him that.

He sat back down and gently undid the wrapping to open up the box within. He pulled out the mahogany base of the present, on which a pewter fighter jet titled upwards, directly above the circular face of a clock that protruded forward. "F-14 Tomcat" read a plaque at the base of the model.

"Wow," he whispered, running his fingers over the smooth metal finish of the plane and feeling its contours. "Mac, this is-"

"I mean, I know it's a bit cliché to get you an aviation gift, but I thought since the Navy's starting to take your beloved Tomcat out of circulation…" she followed his gaze to the inscription on the bottom:

_To Harm_

_You've flown, you've punched out, and you've crashed – but I know you're still happiest when you're in the air._

_Love,_

_Mac_

It didn't occur to either of them the deeper meaning behind the word 'love'. They thought it was what friends did when they cared about each other. They used the exact same word for gifts to Bud and Harriet. It was just a word, right?

Secretly, they both knew that was a lie.

"This is wonderful," he said, holding up the model to the light and admiring its luminosity. "It goes on my desk first thing tomorrow."

Mac laughed, helping him put it in the box again. "Merry Early Christmas, Harm."

"I'll get used to those Hornets. F-18s aren't so bad when you think about it." He grinned, mirroring her exuberance. "Can you open your present on the plane? Whenever it's actually Christmas morning." She nodded and exhaled a breath, the sound audible even to him as he sat away from her. "Want to take a walk?"

"Need to be at the airport by 2030, and it's already 1900."

"I'll get you there in forty-five minutes, tops. We still have a while," he said, gathering up his discarded tie from the couch and shoving it in his pocket. "Come on, what do you say?"

She studied him for a moment, not knowing how to respond. She wanted to keep it simple between them; she didn't want to let the lawyer in her weigh the odds, she didn't want the Marine in her to put up the defensive walls – she wanted to just let him in. So she did. "We can go across the street, near the parks." It's where they had jogged together – before Paraguay.

"Great," he nodded as he stood up, bringing his jacket with him and going to her closet, being ever the gentleman as he put her coat over her shoulders before heading out the door.

* * *

TBC...

For those of you who don't know, F-14 pilots are soon going to be transferred over to Hornets (F-18) in the real Navy...aww...

Whatever in the world will our Harmon do without those Tomcats? I recall the episode where he seemed to resent Hornets, and now he'll be forced into flying 'em. Oh well...


	9. Late Night Walk

"I'm glad we're okay again," Mac whispered, walking side-by-side with Harm as they traversed the paved pathway through the shrubbery and grassy fields – albeit, there was adequate space between them. She had made sure of that.

Everything was covered in the snow and ice that had dumped on them earlier in the week, except for the carefully plowed path on which they walked. The blood had started to rush to her cheeks, creating a rosy tint about her normally fair skin. There where flecks of white where the snowflakes had landed defiantly, but she made no move to brush them off. He wondered if he looked as snow-blown. He decided she'd look better, anyway.

The night was clear, and crisp. Everything was strangely still for a day in late December, and the lack of wind provided surprisingly temperate weather.

"Me too. I just wish we could've worked it out sooner," he said as he hiked up the collar of his jacket. As he spoke, puffs of his breath were visible in the cool winter air. "I miss…this. I guess I took it for granted before."

She nodded and spotted a bench nearby beneath one of the city lights. The bulbs from the wrought-iron lamppost provided a halo of illumination around the area, but left the outside isolated and dark. She sat down and patted the spot beside her, brushing away the remnants of frost and snow that had compounded earlier that day. He acquiesced as he took his hands out of his pockets and adjusted his scarf distractedly.

"Let's not ruin it again, okay? I don't know how much more of this I can take," she said truthfully.

Harm tilted his head towards her, inadvertently breathing softly and making the air tickle her face. "It scares me sometimes."

"What?"

He looked away and studied a singular snowflake as it made the perilous journey to the ground. "How much I need you in my life."

She fell silent. Why did his admissions have to come at such strained times? It was undeniable that during Bud's accident, they were closer than ever before. He had made no move then, and she was too afraid to initiate anything, in fear that he would react as he did in Australia. There was never a time when both parties had been willing to take the risk. Their relationship was a seesaw: when one person was down, the other was up – the thought alone killed her inside.

He continued, unfazed by her failure to respond. "You were right when you said I'm afraid to lose control. That need…I can't control it. It's just there."

"Just there?" she swallowed. Did he want it to go away?

He had worn his cover outside and it obscured his eyes as he angled his head downwards. It annoyed her. It reminded her once again how bound they were by their uniforms, by the Corps and the Navy; their jobs had kept them from each other. _No_, she shook off the notion; she couldn't blame their indecision about each other on their careers. She reminded herself that were it not for JAG, they never would have met.

Sensing her anxiety, he corrected himself. "I meant I can't ignore it. Not that I'd want to. No matter what we go through, Mac, it's there."

"Whenever we've gotten away from each other before," she admitted, moving the toe of her shoe to leave tiny circles in the snow, "we've ended up coming together again. With Mic and…"

"Clay," he finished.

"Webb," she amended without a moment's hesitation.

That was all he was to her now. Back to Agent Webb of the CIA, Deputy Director of Counter Intelligence Operations. Or maybe Undersecretary of State. There were a myriad of titles Webb had shared with them. I was no longer _Clay_ or anything intimate like that. Just Webb.

What they had talked about after Simon Tanveer was killed, Harm didn't know, but it was enough to finally push her away. Did it make him a bad person to be secretly happy? To gain a perverse pleasure at seeing her relationship fail? It sickened him but it was true; he had wanted to point an accusing finger at her that day, and express that proverbial '_I told you so_' feeling that overwhelmed him so.

"Doesn't that say something." It was _meant_ to come out as a question. His voice was softer, gentler than it had been during their talk after the investigation on the USS Hennessy.

Mac pursed her lips together before continuing. "Sometimes, I really believed, Harm. Butch and Sundance, Batman and Robin…but then something always happened to make me doubt everything I felt."

"I'm sorry I didn't do anything before."

"You weren't ready. If I'd pressured you into something, it wouldn't have worked out," she said as she shook her head. She crossed her arms and tucked her hands behind her forearms in a strangely protective gesture. "Did you really mean what you just said?"

He turned his head and nodded, refusing to let embarrassment get in the way of what he was trying to say. "Of course, Mac. And it makes me feel juvenile to say it in so few words, but it's true." He glanced at his watch and his eyes went wide with alarm. "You need to catch a plane. We can talk when you get back."

Harm stood up and took several steps forward. He turned around when he didn't hear the familiar crushing noise of her feet on the snow, to see her standing stagnant in front of the bench. "Mac?"

"Wait," she said, stepping forward and meeting him hastily as she came back to her senses.

She slowly reached up and smoothed out the lapels of his jacket as she let out a shaky breath. His hand went up and grasped hers, and through the thin material of her glove, she could feel the rough texture of the bandages on his uncovered fingers.

Finally, Mac leaned up, gaining an inch or two as she stood on her toes from within her heels, and grazed his lips with hers for the slightest moment before pulling back. "Harm," she breathed, letting her fingers entwine with his. "I want _this_."

Her other hand fell from his shoulder over his chest, pressing up against his heart. She could feel the gentle thudding as it pulsed within him. It surprised her that the sensation could permeate through all the layers of clothing; maybe she was just imagining it. Harm's free hand reached over her arm and into the confines of his coat. He pulled out a small box that couldn't have been wider than three inches, or longer than six.

He gently pulled her hand off and pressed it into her palm. "For on the plane," he whispered, closing her fingers around it gingerly and holding them in place. "Merry Christmas, Mac."

She nodded and carefully pushed the box into the safety of her jacket pocket, letting her hand linger on the crisp, cool feeling of the thin trimming on its top. "We should really get going," she said.

"I know."

He nudged her in the direction they came from and walked in silence beside her. For a moment, she contemplated the next action and reached out, slipping her arm through his before continuing towards her apartment. He stood still, pleasantly surprised, and glanced down at her with amusement. She tilted her head up and arched an eyebrow before pulling him along.

"If I'm late, I'll tell the General it was your fault."

"He'll never believe you," Harm shot back, quickening his pace to keep up with her. "He hates you, remember?" Truthfully, he couldn't believe anyone could _ever_ hate the woman in front of him. Except maybe Clark Palmer.

Her nose was pink and there were snowflakes all over her, each tawny fleck standing out against the black of her overcoat – he loved it. Some of the bits of ice shook out as she spun around, glaring at him with mock annoyance. He reached out and pushed back a particularly defiant lock of hair that bounced out of place as she moved, brushing out the snowflakes as he did so.

Mac's face broke into a smile and she slowed down, pressing herself to his side as they strode out of the park together. He wished he had done this sooner. It would've meant a lot more happiness, and a lot less hurt.

* * *

"Colonel Mackenzie!" Lieutenant Troy called across the crowded airport lobby. "They're boarding, Ma'am!" He waved his arms to catch her attention as Mac jogged towards him, with Harm following close behind, carrying her shoulder bag with him. 

Harm's apparent 30-minute 'shortcut' ended up taking and hour, and they had no time to check in her baggage.

"Go on," she breathed, shuffling through her purse for the boarding pass. "I'll meet you inside."

Troy nodded and eyed Harm with surprise. "Commander Rabb?"

"Lieutenant," Harm nodded, placing Mac's bag to the floor and watching her as she frantically searched for her things. "I'll see you soon at JAG."

Troy nodded and smiled knowingly, letting his gaze linger on his two superiors before turning around, giving his pass to the attendants, and disappearing into the corridor leading to the plane.

"I swear I put it in here…" Mac muttered.

Harm suddenly fished through his pockets and pulled out a long slip of paper. "This?"

She snatched it from him, examining it closely. "How'd you get it?"

"You left it on your table," he shrugged and picked up the bag once more, handing it to her. "Dinner when you get back."

She nodded and stood awkwardly, waiting for him to make a move. He rubbed his chin distractedly, glancing in both directions before reaching out and shaking her hand. She shot him a pointed look but made no move to correct his ridiculous behavior.

The man in front of her made her feel frustrated, amused, furious, and absolutely wonderful all at the same time – the myriad of feelings would _then_ bring about a tornado of confusion. She had never experienced such a thing.

"Goodbye," she said as she took an uncertain step back.

"Colonel," Harm replied as stoically as possible. He watched as she ran in the direction of Troy.

"Last call for the boarding of flight 325, non-stop to Beirut. Last call for boarding."

Harm shook his head with a laugh and started outside. He went into the Lexus and starting in he direction of the Wall; it was an almost robotic action. But for the rest of the night, not for one moment did her forget her.

As she made it to the safety of the plane and stashed her luggage in the compartments, she realized that what had just happened wasn't exactly the romantic farewell she had expected, but she loved it anyway.

* * *

TBC... 


	10. The Bat Signal Interrupts

A/N – It seems Lieutenant Troy is a guinea pig. My guinea pig. He has no emotions, no apparent personality – he's just…there. But I think he's funny anyway.

* * *

_Hours Later_

_Over the Altantic Ocean_

Mac glanced at a gently snoring Lieutenant Troy with disinterest, his head was propped slightly on his open palm, but his mouth gaped as his head lolled slightly. His arm fell to his side and over the armrest and brushed her side, but he didn't stir at the contact. She gently nudged his forearm over so it rested safely on his leg as he turned over and muttered something before ceasing to move again.

She glanced at her watch to see it was already 0100 back in D.C. Christmas morning. She fished through her pocket, not bothering to extricate herself from the tight belt, and managed to pull out the box Harm had given her earlier. She tugged at the end of the ribbon to untie it, and carefully peeled off the wrapping paper to reveal a plain black box that quite obviously housed jewelry.

Mac opened the top to reveal a bracelet that sat neatly between the cushioned interior. She pulled it out and admired it openly, as the woman to her left across the aisle shot an envious glare. The shining silver stood out against the ebony box, and curled around in a loose chain that came together on one end at a thick clasp. The other side twisted gently and in the middle of the two ends converged two hearts, one inverted, the other right-side-up.

Behind the bracelet sat a note, crisply folded and tucked into the corner of the box. Mac eased it out, careful not to rip it as she read it in her head Harm's scrawl:

_This is the least I can do for you, for being there all these years. Thank you. I hope we can talk – get back to where both of us feel comfortable._

_- Harm_

She decided she didn't deserve it. If anything, she had made his life more miserable after Paraguay. She folded the note and put it exactly where Harm had placed it previously, put the bracelet back, and opened up her airbag that sat under her feet and pushed the box in amongst the folds of her emergency clothes.

She also realized he must have written the note before. Before the dinner, before the walk in the park, before they had agreed on talking. How long had he kept it in his apartment? It took her a moment to fight a sudden urge to rip the bag open again and wear the beautiful bracelet.

"I opened one of my presents a bit early, since I was going travelling. My husband gave me a wheelbarrow, a shoe brush," muttered the woman who had been eyeing her, "and a book by my favorite author."

"That's nice," Mac nodded uncertainly, unsure of the woman's acerbic tone.

"It was addressed to his mother. Apparently, she got my copy in the mail later when I was at the airport."

Mac cleared her throat and forced a smile. She turned away slightly and closed her eyes to get the sleep she very well needed. But thoughts of wheelbarrows and incorrectly mailed gifts arose several times before her mind drifted off.

* * *

_New Year's Eve - 1200 Local Time_

Mac had arrived at Dulles on her return flight with Troy in the early morning. After several hours of sleep, she had made her way back to JAG HQ, to report back to Cresswell. She had a feeling that she didn't look as fresh as she had hoped, despite hours of sleep on the plane and the rest she had at home; the attempts at salvaging the awry diplomatic relations between the Lebanese high officials and the American Marines had been draining.

"I'm impressed, Colonel," Cresswell said without looking at her. They both watched the TV as ZNN covered the improved situation in Beirut.

"There's still work to be done, Sir. I merely advised the ambassador and the other officials."

After a knock on the door, Harm walked in with a grim expression on his face. "Sir, you wanted to see me." He narrowed his eyes slightly upon seeing her, out of surprise or suspicion, she didn't know.

"Got back today," she explained, smiling slightly at seeing his strange reaction.

Cresswell cleared his throat and broke the sudden silence. "Hung jury?"

"Yes, Sir. They're going to continue their deliberations tonight and hope to come up unanimous before tomorrow. The Judge has deliberating sequestering them, privately of course, but I believe they'll be ready soon."

"Colonel, dismissed."

"Aye aye, Sir." She spun on her heel and left without a glance in Harm's direction. After going into her office, Mac sat down and pulled back slightly on her sleeve to reveal the bracelet. She brushed her fingers across the chain lightly to hear her door open.

"Like it?" came his voice through the office.

"It's about a million times better than what I got you." She sighed and got up.

"I loved your present." He rolled his eyes overtly and smirked. "Personally, I don't think bracelets are very becoming of me."

Mac stood up and met him, reaching out to grab his wrist. "Hand alright?"

"Never been better," he said, hooking their index fingers together. She saw the tiny, dark perforations where the doctors had removed the stitches.

"Dinner tonight?" she murmured, moving slightly closer and letting her other arm snake gently around his middle.

She felt selfish and rude to do this to him, to hold him without asking permission. After a moment, she shook it off. It was just strange, she realized, surreal even.

He inhaled deeply and she pulled back. "Can't say for sure."

"Why?" Her head snapped up.

"You know that capital murder trial I was working on? Lieutenant Chase?"

She stepped back and went back to her desk, shaking her head with irritation and annoyance. "That's what you were talking about with Cresswell."

"Unfortunately, yeah." He went on the other side of her desk and sat down. "I need to be there if they make a verdict. They'll finish tonight, hopefully. All have agreed to stay here for the decision making, after pressure from Congress hastened up the trial."

"On New Years, Harm? Half the office isn't even here – and neither should you."

He leaned back, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm sorry, Mac. Let's do something tomorrow, alright?"

"Don't worry about it," she sighed. "Duty calls."

He thought for a moment and brought his hand to his chin as he furrowed his brow. "Like the bat signal?"

"Sure," she drawled, pushing herself up and pushing her bangs to the side of her head. "But I'm just Robin."

He went to the door, throwing her a final grin before heading out towards his own office.

* * *

TBC…

First of all…the gift isn't quite as exciting as some of you reviewers expected it to be, and for that I apologize. Wouldn't if have been cool if he gave her keys to a rocket car or something? Uh…yeah…

And BTW, I didn't want this to be an actual TAD as you can see. More like a temp. assignment for Mac to go to, get things back under control and everything. We don't want her to miss New Years Eve, do we?


	11. The Chairman of the Board

_2300 Local Time_

_New Year's Eve_

Except for General Gordon Cresswell, the vital members of one court proceeding, and Commander Harmon Rabb, the Judge Advocate General's office was completely empty. The quiet was a sudden change from the usual bustling halls and corridors.

Sarah Mackenzie was about the join the party, and whistled softly as she climbed up the stairs into HQ. She reached the elevator, held all her bags in one hand as she pressed for the button and waited patiently as it came towards her. She stepped inside and after the short journey to her floor, she exited and started towards Harm's office to hear a gentle tune float towards her.

The odd buzzing of some trumpets would sometimes over overpower the sounds of the jazzy rhythm of a drum set, and a set of strings gently sat beneath the low but unmistakable voice of Frank Sinatra.

I've got you under my skin  
I've got you deep in the heart of me  
So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me  
I've got you under my skin

The lights were dimmed in the bullpen, and all offices, save one, were bathed in darkness. The crescendo of violins and cellos lulled her closer, as she closed her eyes and took a step forward. Her eyes opened abruptly as the trumpets blared, and she quickened her pace to the light. The warm lamplight flickered slightly as Harm, who leaned over a paper on his desk and drummed his fingers on its surface.

"Hey," she whispered, not wanting to totally disrupt his trail of thought. "I brought some food. Unless you have work."

His eyebrows were raised as his head snapped up instinctively. "Come on in. Still no verdict."

"I see," she said, "and if you're lying, there are subtler ways to tell a person you don't want to go out." She spotted the F-14/clock on his desk, sitting safely across from him and plain in sight at all times.

He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in the chair. "You've got to be kidding. Why the hell would I stay _here_ of all places if I tried to avoid a date? Give me some credit."

"I don't know…" she felt a smile playing on her lips as she dropped off a plastic bag on the only empty spot on his normally spotless desk. The _d-word_. She had the overwhelming sensation to _giggle_, but drowned the thought.

"Why'd you come here? It's New Years Eve."

"It was either this or," she sighed, swaying slightly to the music, "a night in with Ben and Jerry. I think I've spent enough time with them as it is. We needed a break in our relationship."

The song faded out into another classic. _Fly Me To The Moon_ echoed through the small office, beginning initially as the instruments twittered in the background, complimenting Sinatra's smooth voice.

"I never pegged you as an _Ol' Blue Eyes _fan, Harm," she smiled, eyeing the stereo that he had pilfered from Sturgis' office earlier in the evening.

"It's 'cause I'm not, really," he admitted, getting up and putting the music slightly louder as he turned the volume knob. "I found it in my CD collection last week. I think my mother left it here when she last visited. It's catchy, though."

Mac tapped her toe in beat with the music, startled as Harm grabbed her hand. He pulled her close without a word and moved gently to the music, wrapping one arm around her waist and kept the fingers of his free hand firmly hooked with hers.

"Would you like to?" he murmured quietly into her hair as he led them around in their spot.

She could barely hear his words, but managed to whisper a response into the lapels of his jacket. "Don't have much of a choice now, huh?"

"No, you don't," he chuckled. She could feel the vibrations from his low laugh as she nested her head next to his neck. "If the General sees us now…"

"Let him," she said. Her own words surprised her immensely. "I don't care."

She decided that if an onlooker were to pass, they would look a bit silly, considering they were both still in uniform and quite disheveled. It had been a long day. She could imagine a junior officer walking in on them as they stood, wrapped up in one another. _Sir, I have your reports on the Ray court martial…oh…I'll come back later_. And Mac would just laugh and kiss Harm forgetting all about the encounter. Yeah right.

_Dancing_ certainly wasn't the most intimate thing she could think of being caught doing in the office. Her face flushed slightly. She hadn't had thoughts like those in a time, mostly because she would feel guilty about thinking of him in such a way, because of the battering their relationship had taken. Because of Webb.

Harm pulled back and arched a skeptical brow. "You were scared of a messy desk, but have no concerns about actions that _clearly_ suggest fraternization?"

"A messy desk is inexcusable," she nodded. "You can't help who you fall in love with."

He stopped moving suddenly. Sinatra's music became white noise in his mind as he tried to sort out the thoughts in his head. "Really?" he managed to croak out. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips impatiently.

He needed badly to believe her, whisk her off in his arms, and make love to her until she was bored of him; it would all be worth it. He had waited so long, and wanted so much to do just that. He needed to make sure _she_ had said what he had just heard. After all, he couldn't be sure. Those words had shown up an awful lot in his dreams.

Mac nodded slowly. "Yes," she breathed.

Harm leaned down and captured her lips in his, but just as she had begun to respond, the phone rung from his desk. He pulled back suddenly and untangled their limbs, scrambling towards it and motioning her to turn down the music. She acquiesced and watched with interest, leaning back with nonchalance against the bookshelf as she tried to push the kiss and her words to the back of her mind.

"Rabb," Harm breathed into the receiver. "I'll meet you there, Captain."

"Done?"

He nodded, put one finger up, and started in a jog out the office. "I'll be _right_ back."

"Alright," she sighed, strolled to his chair and flopped down.

* * *

Gordon Cresswell watched the snow float down outside from his office with the heart of JAG. He was to stay until Rabb's verdict came in, and report to SecNav; thankfully, he had just been notified by the Judge in the trial that the jury had come to a decision. It was only a matter of minutes until he too would get to go home. 

He decided to leave the confines of his office and head out into the bullpen, perhaps to get a leg-up on the verdict, rather than hearing the news by phone ten-minutes after it had been issued. His sharp ears picked up on Sinatra the minute he opened to door, although it took him a moment to recognize the song: the singer was putting his own spin Nat King Cole's _Unforgettable_.

The door from which the music emanated had been left slightly ajar, and he could see a form hunched forward in the chair within. Cresswell's curiosity got the better of him. He gently nudged the door open to reveal Colonel Mackenzie peering at Rabb's bookshelf as she propped her head up on the desk above her folded arms. She rocked back and forth in her seat to the music and her eyes lingered in that direction until she noticed him standing at the door.

"Sir!" she snapped up to attention. "I didn't see you there-" _Go away, _was her initial reaction. She bit her bottom lip and tried to shush the thoughts that raged in her mind.

"At ease, Colonel," he frowned. "Why are _you_ here?"

Her mind spun for a plausible excuse, and she blurted one out before another thought could cross her mind. "I decided to give Commander Rabb some company, Sir. I didn't really have anything to do, so…"

"I see," Cresswell replied, deciding not to voice his doubts of her actions and thus saving her from fabricating a lengthy explanation. "He's still at the courtroom?"

"Verdict's ready." _I think the JAG would know before you, Mackenzie, _teased a little voice in her head.

He nodded and stepped inside, shooting her a look that she couldn't quite recognize. It wasn't anger or disappointment – more like confusion. "Music."

"Commander Rabb's, Sir."

"_Nice_ music."

"The Commander has good taste," Mac said, her response ringing blandly in the room. _But his mother's is better, _came that inane buzzing again.

Reminiscent of those old psychological thriller movies she had seen growing up, she fought the urge to pound the side of her head and knock the voices out; she didn't though – it would probably look schizophrenic. Looking mentally unstable in front of the new boss was even worse than messy desks. It just wouldn't do.

Harm's footsteps echoed outside as he swung the slightly closed door of his office open with irritation. "Mac, I _cannot_ believe-"

"Rabb," Cresswell nodded, "how did it turn out?"

"General." Harm stood up straight and eyed the loud stereo on the side of the room with embarrassment. "We lost, Sir. That civilian attorney, Alexander, he really knew his stuff."

It seemed the case, although she didn't know many specifics, was one that aroused interests on Capitol Hill. Lieutenant Chase was linked to more than one murder involving civilians; he was believed to commit the crimes while on liberty. Congress was interested in seeing that the defendant burned, and it seemed they would get just that.

"Sentencing continues when?"

"Four days from now."

"Go home, both of you. Work is done, and there's no reason for you to stay behind," Cresswell turned around to leave.

"What about you, Sir?" Mac asked, unsure of why she was showing such concern.

Cresswell continued without looking back. "Finishing up, Colonel. Goodnight."

Once they could no longer hear his feet clicking against the floor, Harm turned to her and ran his fingers through his hair. "Didn't have much to work with."

"Best you can do now is mitigate the sentence," she nodded. "You were the best lawyer Chase could get."

The corners of his lips perked up slightly. "Was it really necessary to leave the music blaring?"

"It was eerily quiet," she said in a hushed tone and brought her finger to her lips.

He glanced behind him to ensure Cresswell wasn't going to make a surprise appearance and closed the door. "I liked the dancing more."

"To each his own," she waved her hand about spuriously and turned off the stereo.

"We still have twenty-five minutes until 2005 sets upon us," he glanced at his watch.

"Actually, it's-"

Harm grabbed her discarded coat and wrapped it around her, pulling them out together as they went. "Let me guess, _Twenty-three minutes and 36 seconds, _or-"

Mac clicked her tongue with mock disappointment. "Twenty-seven and ten. Really, Harm, that was way off."

"Whatever it is, let's not spend it here."

"Whatever you say," she agreed as he nudged her into the elevator, but she didn't know _where_ they could go in so little time. After a moment, she realized she didn't care.

* * *

TBC... 


	12. No Tax Returns on New Year's Eve

_Three minutes and forty seconds._ They had been driving around for quite some time, and she was starting to get the idea that they were wandering aimlessly.

"Harm, where are we going?"

"I don't know!" he admitted, swerving the Lexus off the beltway and letting it cruise around in central D.C. "I thought some inspiration would hit me if I drove around for like ten minutes."

"Well, look, there's the IRS office, let's stop there," she snorted, "I need to file some taxes anyway."

"You're not helping," he scoffed, taking a U-turn and heading towards the looming spire of the Washington Monument.

"Why don't we head back to the apartments?" she snapped more forcefully than intended as he frantically searched for a place to stop. "Frankly, I don't mind where we stop as long as I get to eat something soon."

Harm brought the SUV to a sudden stop in front of the Monument. "Come on, we can go near the Potomac."

"You'll get tagged!"

"I won't," he breathed before getting out. "Just come on."

"Are you sure-" she began, until he went around and grabbed her, pulling her along as he walked briskly towards where the bristly cherry blossom trees stood leafless and bare against the cool blue hue of the night sky.

Mac broke into a slow jog as she realized it was less than one minute until zero hour. He stumbled beside her, surprised at the change of speed. "Suck it up, Navy! I even have heels on."

"I'm coming."

She could make out the shapes of several families who stood in anticipation of the imminent fireworks that would accompany the arrival of the new year, and a young couple huddled beneath a tree as they whispered sweet nothings into each others' ears.

Harm pulled her back towards a secluded area where an empty bench sat between two bushes. She managed to sit down, and blew air over her cold fingers, embarrassed that her teeth were chattering slightly.

"I should've changed before I came," she breathed, watching her breath float up aimlessly above them. "Skirts don't cover up adequately."

"I wouldn't know," he winked as he cacooned her hands in his and squeezed gently, angling his head upwards and mimicking the young children around them. "How much longer?"

"Twenty-one seconds," she said, catching the attention of a nearby boy who pointed at her.

"Twenty," Harm continued without skipping a beat, "nineteen, eighteen…"

Mac joined him and after a moment, and the small boy who watched counted with them. His mother and father shared a glance of annoyance, telling him to sit down and not disturb the other people.

"Three, two, one," she laughed as on cue, a brilliant flash of lights erupted in front of them.

The boy squealed with delight and ran into his mother's arms, amazed that his counting had been so accurate.

"How'd you do that, lady?" the father asked with marvel.

"I really don't know," Mac replied with a shrug.

The man smiled and turned back to his family, pulling them close and holding them firmly. She sighed with contentment as Harm stood up and wrapped her in his overcoat.

She pulled back and reached up, brushing her thumb against his cheek that tickled her skin slightly; he hadn't shaved in the morning. "Going for a more rugged look?"

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Would you _like_ the rugged look?"

"Brad Pitt always looked great with a little bristle," she smiled, "but Navy men – I think they're fine the way the are."

"I'm sorry I'm not Brad Pitt," he laughed. He didn't sound sorry at all.

"I don't think we'd really click anyway."

"Really," he murmured. She could tell he wasn't really listening. Mac brought her hand down from his face and adjusted herself within his grasp. She let her arms slip under his and let their hold on each other finally solidify. "Why's that?"

"I have someone else in mind for…you know."

"Ben Affleck?" She leaned back and arched an eyebrow. "Can't think of anyone else then, sorry," Harm shrugged, pulling her against him again.

The warmth permeated through her, and the previous chill that crept through her body disappeared.

"I love you too, you know," he breathed against the shell of her ear. "I have for a really long time."

Mac buried her face deeper into his shirt. "How long?" She didn't know why she would ask such unnecessary questions. She had already anticipated the answer.

"I don't know. It's not like one day I woke up and said 'I love Sarah Mackenzie'," he said as he squeezed her. "If it was like that, it would've been a lot easier."

"I think it's alright that we took the hard road. To get to everything."

"Why?" He sounded truly perplexed by the notion.

"Because all those things we've been through together…" she tried to put the realization she had weeks before into context.

"They were great," Harm finished for her simply.

She didn't watch the rest of the fireworks that night. She knew they were there from the noises and the shadows and lights that danced beneath her eyelids, but she didn't see the colors as they radiated across the sky in bursts and lines and clouds, dazzling in the air before ephemerally melting against the backdrop. She didn't need to see it to make her happy. She was fine right where she was.

With a final 'boom', the show was done. She pulled him along suddenly and hissed at him. "We'll be lucky if you didn't get a ticket."

"That's alright. It was worth it," Harm nodded.

Then he decided he _would_ whisk her off and make love to her, that very night. He just hoped she _really_ wouldn't get bored. He knew he never would.

* * *

**THE END**

Thank you very much for all the reviews. I hope people enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.  
And the Rose Garden suggestion was tempting, but I thought that since Harm and Mac don't really have much luck with romance, it would be quite like them to get lost on the way :)


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